


Knight's Gambit

by Jarakrisafis



Series: Forced Moves: Gorim Saelac's Domination of Princess Aeducan [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Begging, Blindfolds, Bondage, Caning, Chastity Device, Collars, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, F/M, Hair-pulling, Impact Play, Masochism, Nipple Clamps, No Safeword, Non-Consensual Spanking, Object Insertion, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Punishment, Riding Crops, Rough Sex, Sadism, Semi-Public Sex, Shibari, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Verbal Humiliation, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:55:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27966440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jarakrisafis/pseuds/Jarakrisafis
Summary: Gorim Saelac has had enough of being Second to a spoilt Princess who's probably going to get him killed. It's about time somebody showed her that actions have consequences.
Relationships: Female Aeducan/Gorim Saelac
Series: Forced Moves: Gorim Saelac's Domination of Princess Aeducan [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2126205
Comments: 30
Kudos: 40





	1. Day 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold (manka)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/manka/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Knight Takes Princess](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26286898) by [Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold (manka)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/manka/pseuds/Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold). 



> Since this seems to keep growing - shout out to Sunny for beta-ing this. Thank you!

To say Gorim Saelac was angry was understating the truth by a fair margin. He was not simply angry, he was absolutely fuming.

The cause of his anger, one Sereda Aeducan was prancing along in front of him as if she hadn't nearly got herself killed. And by extension she would have got Gorim punished, exiled, killed, or any combination of those when he would have had to drag her lifeless body back to the Palace.

She doesn't even seem slightly apologetic about the whole incident. Gorim knows word will get back to her Father, it always does - and he'll be the one in trouble for letting her go and do something so stupid. As if Gorim has any control over what King Endrin's precious daughter does.

He's tired of taking the fall for her decisions. He's her Second, he spends more time standing behind her watching for threats than he does getting to do what he wants to do, he deserves some respect from her.

To be honest, he's been thinking this for a while, today is simply the last in a long line of things that have been getting on his nerves. Today he's going to show her that her actions have consequences. Worst she can do is exactly what's going to happen anyway if she keeps on as she is.

There are no guards in the corridor outside her room, no one to witness as he waits for her to open the door before making his move. He catches a glimpse of wide blue eyes as he drags her through the door, kicking it shut with one heel and slamming the bar into place.

He can feel the resistance start, too little too late as he drives her back against the wall, her wrists gathered in one of his and his other hand around her throat.

She stares at him, eyes wide, fear glinting in the depths as he presses closer. "Gorim. Let me go!"

He lets one side of his mouth curl upwards as he leans down, "No."

She glares back at him, mouth working silently for a moment as she processes that. It's a word he's never said to her before - a good Second does as they're told. "I will have you punished for this! You dare lay a hand on me!"

He scoffs. "I intend to lay far more of my hand on you, _Princess_. Until you learn that your actions have consequences."

He expects her to struggle. She doesn't disappoint.

He chuckles as her fists hit armour as he hauls her to the lounging chair she owns and settles himself. She kicks ineffectually at him as he drags her down over his knees. She's probably regretting the choice of not wearing her armour today as much as Gorim was bemoaning that fact when he had to haul her out of danger.

He waits her out, with her hands pinned behind her back and firmly in his grip she's not going anywhere, no matter how much she squirms and curses him.

"Are you quite done?" he asks when she slumps, breathing hard.

"You won't get away with this!"

"Princess, are you going to tell your Father that your Second put you over his knee and spanked you like a spoiled brat for nearly getting yourself killed?"

Her panting breaths are the only answer and he chuckles. "I didn't think so."

He tugs her breeches and smallclothes down until her ass is bared to him. He smiles; he thinks, if anyone could see his expression they'd turn and run. The only witness is not in a position to see a thing as she hangs in place, tense under his hands.

"Everything you do has a consequence." he says, raising his hand and bringing it down with a sharp crack. She makes a strangled yelping sound.

"I didn't mean -"

She cuts off as his hand impacts her other cheek and he admires the reddening imprint he's left. "You never mean to do anything, because you never think."

He cuts off any reply with another well placed blow that makes her squirm. And another, alternating where and the strength of the blows.

"Gorim. Stop."

"No," he says, feeling the glee suffusing him at saying that word to her again. "I'm sure you are intelligent enough to work out what I want."

She shifts, unable to avoid the blows he's raining down on her, and not yet working out how to stop him. Her ass is a lovely shade of red when she finally speaks again.

"I'm sorry," she says quietly, so quietly he barely hears her.

"Pardon?" he prompts.

"I'm sorry," she repeats, louder, a faint sniffle in her voice as she dangles there, hair hanging around her face and toes barely touching the ground. She looks nothing like the spoilt princess he's used to seeing. He could get used to this view instead.

"Good girl," he praises, carefully letting go of her wrists and moving to keep her from slipping with a hand on the small of her back. She doesn't try to escape, just braces herself a little better. "Actions have consequences, remember."

She nods, relaxing bit by bit as he lets his hands roam over her ass, soothing the abused flesh.

She twitches as he lets his hand roam lower, ghosting over her thighs. He smirks when she shifts, pressing back slightly into his touch. "Bad girls get punished and good girls get a reward, Princess."

He is good at reading people, he has to be or she would have been dead from various assassins, but now his focus is on her he is sure she just understood his hint. She shifts; just a twitch and an indrawn breath. It's enough to confirm his suspicion that she enjoyed that.

"Oh, _Princess_ ," he purrs, letting his fingers drift lower, sliding across her folds, smiling darkly when he finds her wet, "anyone would think you're enjoying this."

"Gorim."

He can't tell if that was warning or encouragement - but he knows which one he's going to assume it is.

She whimpers as he slowly parts her folds and presses a finger inside. She's so tight around him as he slowly moves, smiling as she does her best to rock into the motion.

"Gorim!"

It's a little breathless, a needy whine slipping out when he doesn't give her what she's hoping for.

"You've listened to me beg you not to do things before - you want something, I expect the same."

She huffs, something that sounds like 'fuck you' escaping her.

He growls, catching the hand that she was trying to get around his legs to touch herself and pulls it up her back until she hisses in pain. "You want, you beg. Nice and pretty, Princess, and I might take pity on you."

Gorim can see her giving in, every moment as she writhes in place and gets nowhere slowly wears down her will to resist him. It's perfect. He had hoped she'd bend to his will and accept that she should be more careful. This is so much better. He has so many ideas, so many things he'd like to try and he knows she's his. He can see her breaking, he'll reform her into something that serves him and he'll enjoy every moment.

"Gorim, please. Please, I need..."

"What do you need Princess?"

"I -" she shifts again, breath panting as she fights to get past embarrassment or reticence at speaking so crudely. "I need to cum."

"Good," he croons, "good girl, Princess." 

He rewards her, fucking her harder and deeper until she's whimpering with every breath.

"Gorim," she bites out. "Let me cum!"

"Ask nicely," he prompts as he feels her tensing and he slows again.

"Please Gorim, please, I need to cum," she sobs, last vestiges of embarrassment washed away in her need and he grins viciously. 

He pulls his finger out of her cunt, his slicked finger finding her clit with ease and she wails, her body jerking within a few strokes. He's won and she doesn't even know it.

He stands up, dumping her onto the rug at his feet and she stares up at him, dazed and confused. "I'll see you tomorrow morning Princess. Try not to forget your lesson or I might have to repeat it."

He quashes his glee at the spark of interest he sees before he turns on his heel and stalks out.

Perfect.


	2. Day 2

Sereda is disappointed the next evening when Gorim simply carries the box he picked up on their way home over to the small table and puts it down before coming back to remove her armour.

She was expecting - she has no idea what she was expecting. Or what she wants for that matter.

She moves where directed, letting him tug her armour free and put it on it's stand. She spent quite a while awake last night, trying to work out what had happened. She lost control somewhere, if she'd ever had it, and after hours of pacing and staring into the fire she had only come to the conclusion that she had wanted to let it go.

Which makes no sense. She's an Aeducan. Nobility. Royalty. She is meant to be the one in control. Not a warrior, no matter how highly his house is ranked. It's just not done.

"Give me a hand with this?"

She mutely nods her head, realising she was staring at the wall and the last of her armour is off. She undoes his with far less grace than he used; she can't remember the last time she put on her own armour let alone took it off. And his has buckles in places hers does not.

He gestures for her to follow and settles down into the chair and peers at her. "What did I tell you to remember yesterday?"

She frowns, shifting from foot to foot as she tries to work out which of the many things he said yesterday he is wanting her to repeat. "That actions have consequences?" She tries, unsure if she's right.

"Good." He draws the word out and she relaxes slightly. "You wore your armour today."

She stands up a little straighter. He's pleased with her. She thought he was this morning when he'd arrived to find her half way into her set, but he hadn't said a word.

"I have a present for you."

She smiles politely; she gets a lot of presents.

He reaches out to grab the box, turning it so she can open it.

Her first thought is disappointment. It's just another choker, she has more of those than she can count. And then the differences sink in. This is no soft leather with gem encrusted designs woven on to it: the leather, when she reaches in, is firm, yielding only enough that she thinks it won't be entirely uncomfortable to wear, and it's wider than any choker she owns. And as if to truly mark itself as different, it has metal spikes rather than gems spread around it and a heavy ring at the front.

She can imagine what that could be used for. It makes her heart race and the same feeling from yesterday is back. The one that is afraid and excited in equal measures.

She should not allow the hand that takes it from her and pushes down on one shoulder until she's kneeling. Nor should she let him place it around her neck and buckle it closed.

She does though. Kneeling at his feet without a single protest. She shivers, despite the fire being lit ready for her arrival by servants before they arrived back. 

"Eager aren't you? Kneeling like a Dust Town whore eager for attention. Strip, Sereda."

The purr in his voice as he says her name goes straight to her core. She's got her tunic off before she can think about the command. The rest follows, left in an untidy heap to one side.

She takes a moment to find a position that's not settled directly on her ass - that's still sore from last night. From the way he smiled when he brushed a hand over it earlier as he had moved to unharness her chest plate, he's well aware of that too.

Expecting him to hook his fingers through the ring and tug is not the same as feeling it. She wondered, idly, if she could resist him, see what he would do. Instead she's off balance, hands bracing on his thighs and entirely unable to pull away. His strength is intoxicating, her pitiful attempt at resistance barely registering. 

He tilts her head up, the collar pulling tight until she has to follow his direction. He smiles down at her, a strange expression she's never seen before. It's an amused smile that holds promises she doesn't understand.

She swallows, feeling the leather against her neck as he reaches out, letting his free hand trail over her skin. He palms a breast, squeezing gently until she squirms. She's wet and wanting more.

"Stop that," his murmur is accompanied by a sharp pain.

She hisses, breath escaping her in a surprised exclamation as he lets her nipple go. That felt good. Remarkably so.

Her next move is carefully weighed and calculated. The lure of the unknown wins as she deliberately shifts under his hand again.

His smile changes, amusement curling his lips up into a smirk. There's something dark there, something she should be afraid of.

She is.

She also trusts him with her life. She chose him from among the rest of the warrior caste that were out practicing while she was watching. He belongs to her and he knows it. She is merely allowing him to do this.

She's not sure if she believes her own mind there but it's better than admitting that she wants something she really shouldn't.

He tugs at the collar, his other hand opening his breeches. She eyes his cock with some trepidation. Knowing the theory of how something is done is not the same as having done it. She has to wrack her brains for the stories she's overheard - men do like to brag about the noble hunters they've bedded, but nothing helpful is coming to mind.

She doesn't so much duck her head as it is she's forced down, the hand not gripping the collar latching onto her braids.

"Lick it," he instructs. "It'll be easier if it's nice and wet."

She obeys, not that she has much choice as he holds her in place. It's not disagreeable - she isn't sure what she was expecting exactly, so she's pleasantly surprised.

"That's it, good girl. Open."

She obediently opens her mouth, letting him guide her until his cock is heavy on her tongue as he tugs her closer. 

"You look just like a Dust Town whore."

She knows she's flushing, shame flaring up - it only makes her moan around his cock. He twitches and she does it again, feeling the way his hands on her head tightens, dragging her forwards until she chokes. She pushes at his legs, suddenly aware that she's entirely reliant on him to let her go so she can breathe. She can't escape his hold.

"You're mine," he says softly as he loosens his grip and she takes a deep breath around him. "Aren't you, Princess?"

She nods as best she can, another moan escaping her. She's so wet and he's barely touched her. She could deny him until her last breath but her body would betray her.

"That's my pretty Princess," he says as he slowly flexes his hips, pulling her down at the same time until she feels like she's choking again before letting her pull away. This time he doesn't stop, slowly fucking her mouth. There's a rhythm, she realises after a moment of panic and futile pushing against his legs when he doesn't let up. Breathe and relax.

"Good girl." Fingers stroke over her cheek, drawing her attention and she blinks watering eyes. "Be a good little whore and swallow, Princess." She doesn't really have a choice given his grip on her collar.

She thinks that not being given a choice to do anything else might have made it even better as she rests her head on his thigh, trying to catch her breath as he runs a hand through her hair.

"Come here." She follows the insistent pull, climbing up onto the chair. Sereda can't deny - once she's kneeling, her legs spread wide over his lap and his eyes raking up and down her body - that she is the whore he's accusing her of being. It leaves her feeling exposed. "Hands on the back of the chair."

He waits for her to grab a handful of the plush cushion behind his head before he moves, lazily tracing over her skin with both hands.

"Gorim!" she says when he makes no move to fuck her in any way.

"Hush." One hand covers her mouth for a moment. "You're mine. You cum when I say you can and not before."

She hushes, letting her head drop onto one of his shoulders as he explores her body. A good thing the cushions are made of such a quality material or she'd have ripped them before he finally touches her cunt. She can't stop the twitch of her hips or the whimper that escapes her throat as he teases her. She can feel his chuckle as his chest shifts under her, more than she can hear it. He's enjoying her frustration. And of course that just makes her more frustrated as she tries to roll her hips against his hand, wanting more.

"Princess." It's a warning, his tone cold, coupled with fingers pinching a nipple again.

She can't help the moan as she writhes in place when he doesn't let go.

"You like that, don't you?" He sounds delighted. Her answer isn't in words, a strangled groan escaping her as he twists harder until she's not sure if she's trying to press closer to him or get away; but he understands anyway. "Oh, I'll have some fun with that, don't you worry."

She probably should worry. That's a problem for later as his fingers find her clit.

"You want to cum?"

"Please," she gasps out. "Please, Gorim."

"Go ahead then."

It takes her a moment to realise what he means before she's rutting against his fingers, desperately trying to find the release he's had her close to for a while. It doesn't take long and she clings to the chair, and to him, as she cums. She ignores his delighted laughter as she slumps bonelessly against him. She has no idea what he finds so funny and she really doesn't care right now.

He lets her gather some amount of composure before urging her to stand. She feels small when he's stood up and he hooks his fingers through the ring on her collar to pull her up onto her toes for a long kiss. "I will see you tomorrow morning," he says before letting her go. "Sleep well."

It isn't until she's finished her ablutions and climbed into bed that she realises she's still wearing the collar.


	3. Day 3

Today may be the first day Gorim has had off duty for a while. Sereda probably never notices that while she has days free of responsibilities, he is still expected to be at her side and watching for danger if she leaves the palace.

And she, of course, likes to go visit the markets or watch the Provings or find a show put on by the Artisans. All the sorts of places where it would be all too easy for an assassin to take her out.

He doesn't know what she was planning to do today, nor does he care. Now he knows she'll bend to his will, he's having his time off. Given he can hear the sounds of running water have just stopped she's about to find out about the new plans for the day.

She obviously isn't expecting him to be present as she's still only wearing a battered silk shirt and her hair is unbraided as she wanders into the main room to find her breakfast. The flash of her cunt under the hem of the shirt makes him smile. What makes him truly happy though: she's still wearing the collar.

"Good morning."

Sereda stops about two steps into the room, blinking at him, clearly confused about why he's in her rooms at this time in the morning.

One hand runs through fine golden tresses that are still tangled from sleep. "Oh. You're early. I'll go find some clothing."

"Princess." She freezes mid turn and gives him a curious glance, and he points at his feet. "I think you meant to say; to lose some clothing?"

She vanishes back into her room and he waits, unsure which she's gone to do. She returns mere moments later without the shirt and he smiles. "Crawl, Princess. Show off that fine ass of yours."

She drops to the ground with only a faint hesitation. Gorim thinks he'll start to see more of that resistance today. Surprise has kept her in line so far. He hopes she does rebel - he's looking forward to putting her back in her new place at his feet.

His cock twitches as he watches her move, tits wobbling behind a curtain of hair as she crawls to his feet and sits up. He clips a chain leash to her collar and she gives the small chest he pulled it from, that she clearly doesn't recognise as one of hers, a wary glance.

She has a right to be wary, he's brought a selection of his favourite toys and she probably doesn't even know what half of them are for.

"Heel, Sereda." He tugs the leash as he stands, walking slowly to the mantel to pick up her brush. She follows without a protest as he returns to his seat and motions her to turn around. She's tense until she realises all he's doing is untangling her hair and she relaxes against his legs when he starts to braid it.

"Sereda," he waits until her head turns slightly. "Are you on the tea they bring in? The one to stop pregnancies?"

She gives him a sharp glance from over her shoulder before nodding. "Yes, so that nobody can make any claims of any kind against house Aeducan."

"Good," he says decisively, continuing to braid. "Stay silent until I give you permission to speak." He orders as he ties the braid off and reaches for her breakfast tray. A tug of her collar has her turning obediently. She doesn't seem as pleased to find him offering her breakfast on his fingers.

There's a brief flash of anger before she smoothes her features into the blank political mask she's perfected and she leans in and takes it from him, her teeth scraping over his fingers.

"Don't do that again," he warns as he offers her another portion.

Her eyes narrow. He shakes his head as her teeth press into his skin, not enough to hurt but very deliberately disobeying. Testing the limits - as he expected she would. He just didn't expect it so soon.

He reaches into the chest, fingers closing on the leather cuffs and pulling them out. Her eyes widen, the fact that she could just unbuckle the collar doesn't seem to even occur to her. Testing him she might be, but escaping appears to be the last thing she actually wants to do.

Nor does she fight him when he pulls her arms behind her back. He puts the bowl on the floor; leaving her enough slack on the chain she can reach it, and lounges back in the chair. "I always keep my promises. I warned you not to do that." He smirks as she shifts uncomfortably. "Obey me and I'll give you what you want. What you need. Disobey and I can make you very uncomfortable."

She shivers at his words before obviously deciding he's not going to go back on his decision and bends down to eat. He uses the time to admire her ass and the nearly healed marks he can still make out on the pert flesh. Such a shame for her that he's going to ensure she can't sit down without remembering this for a few more days if she tries to be a spoiled brat - he's almost hoping she will be.

He hums softly, looking through the things he brought with him. There's so many options he feels spoilt for choice. Decision made; he grabs the book he was reading before she woke up and goes back to it, picking up from where he was as she finishes eating.

Out of the corner of his eye he can see her getting more and more impatient as she waits for him to notice she's finished. She'll learn patience. Eventually.

The chain jangles softly and he suppresses a smirk as she shuffles close enough to rest her head on one leg. He reaches down and she nuzzles into his hand.

They say nobles should be good at spotting things like this. She either doesn't see how he's manipulating her or she doesn't care. It'll take a lot longer than a few days to train her up, but she's walking into an open cage and closing the door herself.

He finishes the chapter, glancing over the top of the book every so often to check on her. She's half dozing, head pillowed on his thigh. He figures she's had enough time to digest her breakfast and reaches out to tug her up as he stands.

Sleepy blue eyes meet his as she blinks in confusion at the abrupt movement as she finds her balance. He leads her around her desk, pushing the chair to one side with a foot and giving the chain a tug. She yields to the hand he places on her neck bending until she's flat on her desk with only a faint hiss as her tits come into contact with the cool wooden surface. That makes him smirk and wonder which is worth more, the inlaid wood or the Princess splayed over the top of it. He gently kicks at an ankle and she widens her stance.

"Don't move."

Her head turns to follow him as he collects his choices for today. He can hear the intake of breath as he sets them down beside her and kneels.

The leather cuffs match the ones at her wrists, it's a simple thing to tie them off to the solid legs of the desk with a bit of rope. He's looking forward to seeing her fully done up in rope, but he's not sure she's got the patience yet, for now leather is quicker and easier.

The last item he picks up and gently drags over her shoulder, "do you know what this is?"

Her lips part before she remembers his order to remain silent and shakes her head instead. Pity, he was hoping she would forget.

"It's called a crop," he says as he lightly passes it over her ass and down one thigh, "they're used to help herd bronto."

She shivers as it drags up her other thigh. Even knowing it must be coming she flinches at the first strike, a wordless exclamation escaping her. It wasn't even hard enough to mark her skin.

A flick of the crop at one thigh and she twitches, pulling at her bonds. He follows it with his hand, running his palm up her thigh until she whines when he stops just short of her cunt. "Patience, Princess."

Patience is not a word in her repertoire as she turns her head a little, pinning him with an imperious look that manages to say without words that she wants him to get on with things.

He can do that, just not the way she was hoping for. He starts softly with the crop, never choosing the same spot, but letting her get used to it. He gradually puts more force in until she's dancing underneath him, hands clenching in the cuffs. Her breathing is loud, whistling between clenched teeth. He'll admit he's impressed with the fact she hasn't said a word yet.

Gorim leans over, kissing down her neck, nipping and biting once he's below the usual collar line of her clothing. She presses back, bound hands tugging at his shirt, not that she can do much more than rumple it.

When his still-clothed erection presses against her ass as she shifts, he groans. One hand grabs her collar pulling her head up as his other drops the crop to grip her hips so he can grind against her. She makes a noise of protest - it only makes him tighten his grip until she whimpers, back arching. He pinches one of her nipples until he gets another whimper before letting her go and she slumps back onto the desk.

He presses one hand against her cunt, laughing at the needy whine that escapes her. "You want this don't you?"

She nods.

"Tell me how much you want it then. Convince me." He smiles down at her before stepping back. 

"Gorim! I want… I _need_ you. Please. Fuck me, please. I need you to touch me. Gorim? Please?"

He strips out of his breeches before stepping back. Pressing a finger into her cunt before she can realise what he's planning. Her begging turns into a jumble of curses interspaced with his name as he slowly fucks her. She's so sodding tight he is going to enjoy when he gets to properly fuck her.

Once she's relaxed he slowly presses a second finger in listening as her breathing hitches. He leans down, resting his weight on her so all she can do is take what he's giving her.

"G'rim, please. Fuck. Please."

He hums, leaning down, "you've been such a good girl, do you deserve to cum?"

"Yes. Please. I want to cum."

He nips sharply at her ear. "Who do you belong to, Princess?"

"I… You. I belong to you."

"Good girl." He smiles, darkly amused as he walks her into the trap. "So, do you deserve to cum?"

"I." She stops, a whimper escaping her, when he stops moving, his fingers buried in her cunt. "I deserve whatever you want to give me?"

"Well, well, seems my little Princess can learn. You're _mine._ You cum when I let you, not before."

She nods agreement and he continues again, gently scissoring his fingers to stretch her as he continues to thrust in and out. She's shivering beneath him, her breath panting. He can feel her muscles working, pulling at her bindings. She's so perfect. Power and grace and smooth skin marred only by the marks he's put there. She's _his._ As much as she can be.

Idly, he wonders how long he could keep her on the edge, how long before she would give him absolutely anything to let her cum. One day he'll see how long she can last. Not today though.

He reaches his other hand around her hip, slowly tracing over the reddened skin before he reaches her clit. He barely has to touch her and she's trying to press into his fingers with a whine. Not much more than that and she falls apart under him.

Gorim grins, pulling his fingers out of her and wiping them off on his cock. She's so wet he won't even need the oil he packed just in case. He lines himself up and slowly eases into her. "Fuck, Princess." He bites out as he feels her cunt still fluttering with the last remnants of her orgasm.

He hoped to take this slow but with how tight she is he's not sure how good his own control will be.

"Oh!" It's an almost breathless exclamation from her as he pulls out and then presses back in. Her eyes are closed, body limp and unresisting as he wraps a hand around the braid he wove and tugs at it. She makes another choked cry, hands pulling uselessly at the cuffs as he hauls her head up.

" _Mine_ , Princess."

"Yours," she says between panting breaths. 

His smile is triumphant as he lets go of her hair and she drops back flat, head turning to give him a fleeting look that's all lust. He runs a finger gently down her cheek before he grips her tight enough to leave finger shaped bruises on her hips and fucks her like he owns her.

He does.

She's _his_.

And he's got the whole day ahead.

Perfect.


	4. Day 3, part 2

The knock on the door rouses her. She's halfway to answering it before she recalls where she is. Part of that might be the boot coming to rest on the leash and consequently forcing her back to the ground when she starts to rise. Mainly though it's Gorims low voiced command to 'stay' that has her freezing.

Anybody could be at the door - it must be mid afternoon by now, though she hasn't really been listening for the bells that mark time. Gorim needs to get rid of whoever it is, as she can't be seen like this. He could claim she's in bed and nobody would question him, given he's back in a respectable amount of clothing - as long as she stays out of sight and doesn't let the chain jangle, that is.

The exchange once he unlocks the door is too quiet for her to make out. Which thankfully rules out her close kin. She'd die of shame if that was either of her brothers. They'd never let up if they found her curled up on her rug wearing only a collar and some very interesting bruising. The door is shut and locked again with a soft click. She relaxes only when Gorim returns alone.

"Just lunch arriving," he says as he settles back down, putting the tray on his lap. "You going to be a good girl and eat nicely or should I dump yours on the floor for you to eat?"

Her lips part in surprise, at the pure audacity he has to give her those as options. She won't admit that she kind of enjoyed eating from a bowl at his feet but it's not something she wants to do often. The floor is another matter entirely. "I'll be good."

He hums, as if he doubts her and holds a first morsel out. She crawls close enough to take it and leans in, careful to not use her teeth. He nods and offers more.

The pat on her head is demeaning, she ruthlessly quashes the comment she wants to make and settles for concentrating on eating. She wants him to be happy with her like he was yesterday. The way his dark voice had been so delighted at whatever it was she'd done. She still can't work out what amused him so, but that it was because of her actions is enough. It seems to take an age before the plate is empty and he sets it aside.

"Spread your legs."

She shuffles in place, inching her knees open. The way his eyes are drawn to her cunt makes her shiver.

"More Sereda, I want to see all of you."

Another shuffle and he smiles. "Good girl. Hands behind your back, straighten up. You don't hide from me."

He stands, unhooking the leash and looking down at her. "When I tell you to kneel I expect you to look like this." One finger trails over her jaw. "Stand."

The hands run down her throat and over her chest as she obeys his order. He looks her over slowly. She kept her hands clasped behind her back as she stood and it seemed to be the right choice as he doesn't correct her. "Good. Kneel."

She slides back to her knees, settling slowly and looks up hopefully.

"Eyes lowered slut, you don't look at your betters unless told to."

She shivers at the address. She's going to be honest with herself: she likes it when he calls her names, especially Princess, the twist he puts in that makes her shudder.

He should be saying it with reverence. He's hers, given to her because she demanded it. She could order him to get on his knees and pleasure her, the same way she has to other whores when she's wanted company that won't accidentally create or break alliances, like taking a fellow noble to bed would.

Beside the fact she's not sure he would follow that order, she doesn't want to give it anymore. She had thought it would be a fine thing to have him serve her like that. Now she can't think of it without imagining his hands, huge against her smaller hips, forcing her back, holding her down.

She wishes that was where they are right now. Instead she's feeling like a fool standing up and kneeling again as he watches. So what if he has to keep correcting her leg angle, she's bored of repeating the same thing over and over.

In fact - she's done with this for the day.

"No."

"Pardon?" His voice is suddenly cold, almost empty of inflection and she glances up, startled. His face matches his voice. She's afraid of him in this moment as he looms over her, afraid of what he might do to her.

She should go call the guards. She should tell him to fuck off, that she's finished with whatever this is for today. She should do many things. She does none of them. Held in place by the burning anger and her own anticipation.

The last time he sounded like this was the first day he dragged her in here. She loves what he has done to her; none of the whores she ever hired made her feel like this - of course none of them dared to give her orders. There's something in her that wants to obey him and gain his approval. There's another part that wants this dangerous cold fire - part of her that wants to get burned.

She wets her lips, she should try and appease him, quench the fire. She opens her mouth to apologise but the words aren't happening. She wants to know what will happen, will he put her over his knee again?

She fans the flames, chin lifting to glare as she repeats herself. "No."

He reaches out, faster than she can recoil and hauls on her collar, not the ring, but hooking his fingers behind the leather and she yelps as it pulls tight.

He drags her to the wooden chest he brought as her hands rise to the collar. He opens the chest with his free hand, "grab the cuffs and the rope."

She shakes her head.

"Very well then Princess. Your choice," he says, amusement lacing his voice as she feels his other hand at her neck above her collar. She recognises the hold taught in the guard to knock somebody out without harming them. She can't do anything about it.

"Hello again, Princess."

The words penetrate the fog in her mind as she wakes and the only thing she can feel is fear as she realises she's upright and bound tight enough she has barely any free movement.

It's dark, - no, she can feel the press of fabric - blindfolded then. All she can hear is her own breathing. In, out, in, out. It's so loud in the silence and she turns her head, panic slowly spreading through her when the quiet remains. Has he left her? No. She hasn't heard him leave. He must still be there. Waiting. Watching.

Then suddenly he's pressed against her back, she can feel the rough fabric of his breeches against her ass, his chest, warm and solid against hers. And his breath ghosting over one ear. "For telling me no, you've earned yourself five lashes, for disobeying me, another five."

Her lips part, a denial on them before his fingers press against them. "Think very carefully about what you're going to say. Unless it's 'yes Gorim, thank you Gorim' you might want to keep quiet unless you want to add to the count you've already earned."

She shivers and nods as he removes his fingers and steps away. Ten sounds like quite enough. She gives the bindings another tug. Not that she expected anything to change.

The darkness presses in, until all she can do is cling to the cold metal keeping her arms outstretched and the solid stone beneath her parted feet. If he's trying to make her nervous it's working.

Pain cuts a fiery swathe across her upper back before she registers the whistle and crack of a whip. She doesn't scream. It's close though. It burns, too much to be pleasurable, and yet… it is. Somehow. She didn't think he was being literal when he said lashes. This is what they do to criminals.

"Keep count for me, Princess."

Not likely. He knows how to count to ten. He can just get it over with and then maybe he'll fuck her again. Like he did that first day. She tilts her head trying to place where he must be.

"I'm not going to stop until you count them."

He wouldn't. She wets her lips. He would, she thinks absently. He's never lied to her yet. Her voice is shaky, "one."

"Good girl," he says, barely waiting before putting a second stripe across her ass. 

She screams. That's nothing like the feel of his hand. "Two." 

Another and she grits her teeth as she hisses out the number. She doesn't like this - her body does.

He's good at this, never the same spot, no pattern for her to anticipate. They blur together until she's surprised when she reaches the final number. 

"Ten." It's half sob, half gasp. Nothing else matters right now except the burning trails across her skin. And the sudden press of fingers against her cunt.

"Still so wet," he says as the fingers drag up over her clit and she draws in a sharp breath before his fingers are at her lips, "clean them."

She obediently opens her mouth, spurred on by the wish to not get any more lashes. She's got her answer for what he'll do if she doesn't follow his orders. 

He is patient, waiting until she's done a good job before letting them trail down her body until she whines.

"Gorim. Fuck me." It's been hours since this morning, surely he can manage that again by now? 

"I wasn't aware you were in any position to be giving orders." His amusement just annoys her even further.

"Gorim! I need your cock. Fuck me."

He laughs. "You want my cock? Oh no, Princess. Only good little sluts get that, and you've not been very good at all have you?"

The sudden return of light makes her eyes water despite the lanterns all being blown out, only the flickering fire and phosphorescent moss in the bowl beside her bed lighting her room.

She's tied at the end of her bed; it's no wonder she couldn't find any give in her restraints, she'll never be strong enough to break the thick stone columns.

He circles around, climbing up onto her bed and kneeling in front of her. It puts them at about the same height. He smiles, indulgently she thinks, as if he's humouring her.

He still has the whip in hand, obviously her eyes are drawn to it. The plain brown leather not really looking like it can do any damage. "I've got a few more than this, I'm sure you'll try them all out eventually. Won't you?" He asks, pressing the handle against her cunt.

No. She certainly will not.

"Yes." Not what she was meaning to say.

He smirks, pressing the handle inside her and she whines, tugging at her wrist bindings. 

"You know, there's one problem with people like you." Her breath hitches when he holds it in place, buried as deep as it will go. "You like pain too much, I'm going to have to get creative with my punishment."

"But, wasn't that -"

He cuts her off with a laugh as he tugs it almost all the way out before leisurely pressing it back in, the plain carved handle slipping easily inside her. "Just the beginning Princess."

She whines as he slowly fucks her. A teasing, maddening pace that she can't do anything about. It stretches out, nothing but that to focus on as she pulls at the cuffs.

"Gorim, please."

He hums, eyes watching her reactions with a hunger that makes her shiver. "Please?"

"Fuck me!"

"I am."

She growls, flexing her hips as much as she can to try and show him what she wants. "Harder," she grits out, a growl echoing around the room in her frustration.

"As you wish, Princess."

She nearly sobs in relief when the thrusts turn nearly brutal until she's gasping on every thrust. She's so close she can feel her body tightening, and he stops.

He laughs, throwing the whip aside and freeing his straining cock from his breeches. She expects, well, something that isn't him taking himself in hand and ignoring her.

She tugs at the cuffs again, growling when nothing happens. He stands up, one hand tangling in her hair and forcing her to look down as he continues to stroke himself. His seed is warm as he cums and she shakes her head, feeling it slide down her cheek and her chest.

He smirks, dragging his fingers across her skin, smearing it over her breasts. "Very pretty, slut." He climbs down off the bed, rolling his shoulders with a satisfied sigh. 

"Gorim!" It wasn't a wail, it wasn't. But as she turns her head to watch him he's not making any effort to come and let her cum, or even to undo the ropes. She can't believe he's going to leave her like this.

"Yes?"

"You can't leave me like this!"

His smile is edged in darkness. "Spoilt Princesses who make demands deserve no reward."

She watches as he drags the chair he favours back from the fire a little so he can see her through the open door and then settles down with his book again.

He really is going to leave her like this. Unsatisfied and helpless to do anything except feel the lashes when she moves.


	5. Day 3, Part 3

This has been one of the most pleasant afternoons Gorim can recall having. He's got through more of his book than he has in months. And he's done it with a very nice view indeed; there's a fine ass strung up for him to admire whenever he wishes.

At first she kept twisting around, possibly to check if he was still there, possibly to see if her pleading was having an effect. He had smirked into his book, only looking up occasionally to ensure she was still alright, and admittedly to enjoy the sight. When her begging didn't get a response she tried to order him to let her go. That he didn't even deign to look up at.

He didn't particularly care how angry she became, not when he had all afternoon to wait. It was only inevitable that he could outlast her anger. He watched her go from arousal, to frustration, and back to anger until she finally moved to resignation; anger melting until she slumped into her cuffs. He knew she was ready then. It's what he's been waiting for. She's tired, off balance - she should be easy to mould like this. He nips into the bathing chamber before dealing with her, leaving his clothing in a neat pile on a shelf and setting the water to run.

She doesn't move when he removes her collar, nor when he tugs the knots free, pulling the ropes out and then unbuckling the cuffs. She whines as her arms drop and he scoops her up, heading into her bathing chamber and the bath which is nearly full. The steps aren't easy to navigate with his arms full, she's lucky he's pleased with her current state or he might have just dumped her in there.

He turns the tap off and settles into one of the little carved seats around the edge and props her in his lap. She nuzzles into his neck with another whine.

He keeps his hold light, and a soft litany of praise falling from his lips, and she relaxes bit by bit until she's slumped against him. He washes her gently, admiring the marks he's left as he goes. She doesn't protest as he maneuvers her so he can do a proper job. Finally he unties the leather cord he used to tie off her braid this morning and slowly untangles her hair, washing it with the same care. 

She finds her legs once they get out, standing so he can dry her off. She shakes her head, grimacing at her wet hair before she stumbles around the partition to make use of the rest of the facilities and he uses the time to get himself dried off.

He waits for her to reappear, before he bundles her into bed and wraps a dry towel around her hair. She doesn't argue, watching him as he bustles around the room refilling the water pitcher in case it's needed, and banking the fire. Nor does she protest him sliding into her bed and tugging her back into his arms. In fact he can feel the way she's shifting to press against him. So much trust she's showing him while she's too tired to think before she acts. He could get used to having a warm body beside him.

"Sereda, lift your head." She doesn't question him and he easily slides her collar back into place, tucking a lock of hair that's escaped the towel behind her ear. "Good, Princess, good."

Gorim pushes himself up until he's propped up on one arm so he can see her face as he gently cups a breast, softly pinching her nipple. Her lips part in a gasp, eyes opening to look up at him.

"I thought you were angry with me?"

"I was." He agrees, "but good behaviour gets rewarded." She shivers, he can't tell if it's his words or his hands smoothing over one hip. "It took awhile but you accepted your punishment like a good whore." The shudder that time was definitely a response to his words. "You like it when I call you that don't you? My little whore, just a wet cunt to put my cock in."

It's hard to tell in the low light, but he thinks there's a patch of pink on her cheeks as she nods. "And 'Princess,' when you say that," she finally admits quietly.

He chuckles. "Good, because I wasn't planning on stopping." He lets his hand drift up to her collar, tugging gently at the ring. "When you're wearing this, you belong to me."

If he could have things his way, caste and tradition be fucked, she would never take it off. Unfortunately that's an impossible dream.

He wonders what she's thinking now as she lies pliant beside him, soft sounds escaping her as he parts her legs, sliding his thigh between them, and slowly brushing his fingers over her core until her hips twitch.

Embarrassment perhaps? After all, what sort of a noble let's a warrior dictate terms? Shame? Perhaps, and that he needs to stamp out before it takes hold if he sees it. She should not be ashamed of what the Ancestors have gifted her with - those who will submit and enjoy pain are rare to find. Humiliation? He hopes so. It was certainly his aim, to establish the new way of things brutally enough that she wouldn't dare oppose him, yet with enough tenderness he's the one she looks to for protection.

It is, after all, a Second's job to protect their patron from any dangers that could harm them.

He never swore to protect her from himself.

Not that he will ever harm her. Hurt, yes. But never harm. A fine line and one he will walk with great pleasure. He will train her - even if he can't take her to parties to show her off - he'll know that he owns her.

"Who do you belong to?" he murmurs, needing to hear her say it again. Her head turns to look at him when he stops touching her, a definite flush on her cheeks. Can she see in his face that she's about to seal her fate tonight with her next words?

Perhaps she can, one hand coming up to touch the edge of a welt that curls over the top of her shoulder. "Yours," she finally says, barely loud enough to be heard. "I'm yours."

He smiles, the kiss he bestows on her as he moves to straddle her is gentle but demanding and she moans softly into his mouth as she follows his urging onto her back. "That's my Princess," he says as he cups her cheek and her eyes close, turning her head into the comfort he's giving her. His other hand smoothly glides over her skin until she tries to arch into the touch.

He bends, grazing his teeth over her skin in little nips and bites that make her twitch until he reaches a nipple. She makes a sound that could be his name and he feels her hands on his shoulders.

"Hands off me," he murmurs against her skin, reluctantly releasing his prize and sitting up. He lifts her first hand to one of her breasts, the other to her cunt, "if you are so eager to touch; there will do."

Her lips part again before she lets her mouth curve up in a smile as she fucks herself. He watches, delighted with how eager to please she is. She doesn't even hesitate, pressing her fingers into her cunt, hips rocking up to meet them.

Now he's had a taste he just can't get enough. He's getting hard again just watching her, which is not what he expected given he's cum twice today already. He turns her head up, devouring her lips in a possessive kiss. She yields to him, following his lead until he pulls away.

She bites her lip, stifling the sound of her moans and he brushes fingers over her lips. "No need to be quiet now, nobody can hear you."

She blinks at him, confusion settling. "You wanted me to be quiet earlier."

"Unless I tell you to be quiet there's no reason to hold it in," he says with a smile. "You can scream my name all you want."

With that she stops holding back and he revels in every sound he pulls from her as he explores her body, and the way she fucks herself, fingers slipping into her core and then out to slide over her clit.

Does she not realise just how much information she's giving him as he watches carefully? Committing the sounds and actions to his memory. In time, he'll know her body better than she does.

She cums with a soft sound, her hands stilling as she stares at him, waiting. He draws a finger down the side of her head feeling a shiver that might be fear as she relaxes when he utters praise. He takes her slowly, she doesn't protest, legs wrapping around his waist in a silent request.

"Don't do that."

She moves them at his admonishment. Best to set solid rules now - nothing that lets her dictate terms.

If not for her hands clenching in the furs and the little gasps he'd think she was sleeping. Her eyes have drifted closed, her body pliant under his as he tugs her legs up, drawing out each thrust. "Grab your legs," he orders. He can feel her cunt tightening and he wants his hands free. He drops a hand to her clit, her breath stuttering at his touch. It seems almost too easy to take her into a second orgasm.

If she was pliant before, now she's near boneless, sheer force of will the only thing keeping her grip on her legs in place. He understands the feeling as he cums with little warning, a soft wave of pleasure rather than the sharp burst he's used to. He catches himself before he collapses onto her, rolling off as soon as she lets her legs go.

"That's my Princess," he mutters, wrapping an arm over her chest, fingers curling around the ring on her collar and face nuzzling into her neck as he takes a deep breath, inhaling her scent. "Good girl."

She doesn't respond, breathing already starting to even out into sleep. He presses a soft kiss to her jaw before settling down again. She's a very good girl indeed. And she's _his_


	6. Day 10

She's no longer surprised to find Gorim in her rooms when she wakes - he's been here every morning since her last free day. Waiting for her with that dark smile and a twitch of his fingers pointing at his feet.

They've not had time for anything beyond a bit of petting. She can't decide if that's a good thing or not. Even so she's getting used to being at his feet and eating from his hand like a pet.

She shouldn't want to get used to that. But he's like a drug. Every part of her wants him. The rest of Orzammar, of the world, could vanish and she wouldn't care. She's addicted.

Outside of her rooms he's a perfect Second, one pace behind her when she walks and anticipating what she might want before she has to ask. She even overheard a couple of servants discussing how diligent he is to turn up so early every morning. If only they knew the real reason he's always early.

Still, she has things she wants to do as she did lose her last free day. So she told him yesterday they were going to the market today. He just smiled and nodded. She should have expected the easy agreement to come with a price.

Not that it's a bad price. At least it isn't yet. There's something relaxing about this. She's just been standing still, letting her mind drift, the soft pull of rope against her skin slowly dragging any remaining tension out of her as whatever he's working on slowly tightens up.

It's a pretty pattern, deep blue rope against her skin, crisscrossing in a way she can't unravel. She thinks it must look even better to him as he steps back, admiring her.

"Just one more thing before we're ready," he says with a smile.

There's no reason for her to worry - except she knows the amusement in that tone of voice - so whatever he has planned for this one last thing is something she should be wary about.

"Go bend over the desk, legs spread."

She goes. The rope shifts as she walks. That's going to be rather distracting but she can deal with it. Peering over her shoulder curiously she can't stop her eyes from widening.

"We're meant to be going out," she points out. If they stop to fuck now all the best items from the surface will have sold.

The smile on his face gets even wider as he sets things down beside her. "Oh, don't worry. We're still going out."

That is not at all reassuring. She wets her lips, biting at the lower one as his fingers brush over her cunt as he tugs the ropes to one side. She has a bad feeling about where this is going.

Gorim adds a small amount of oil to the carved phallus and presses it against her cunt. She takes it easily, it's not as big as he is after all.

That doesn't stop it from feeling sodding good as he fucks her with it. She growls when he stops and he tugs at the ropes before patting her ass.

"Stand up."

"Oh!" she breathes out.

"Come on then, let's get you dressed and into your armour."

"Fuck," she mutters as she takes an experimental step. The cock shifts inside her and the ropes drag over her clit. This is going to be a very long shopping trip.

"You were impatient to go before and now you're dawdling," Gorim points out as he holds out her breeches.

"That was before you did this," she mutters. "Where are my smallclothes?"

"I think you should go without them today," he suggests mildly. She knows it's not actually a suggestion.

Dressing is an adventure, adding armour even more so. The last thing he does is remove her collar, tucking it away in one of her dressers. "After you, Princess."

She grits her teeth as the door is opened, lifting her head as she strides, as quickly as she currently can, down the corridor.

"Good morning sister, you're looking happy today."

"Market," she says quickly as she skids to a stop at the unexpected comment, before she coughs, "you know, free day and all that."

Trian shakes his head. "Have fun then, don't buy too much."

Fun. Yeah. She's going to be having lots of fun. Behind her Gorim leans in when they turn a corner and are away from watchful eyes.

"I don't know about you but I'm going to enjoy myself."

She swallows, setting her shoulders and striding, if a little slower than normal, out into the Diamond Quarter.

She can do this.

\------

She absolutely cannot do this.

It had been fine (if by fine she meant she was aching for a bigger cock to properly fill her and was so wet she could feel it soaking into her breeches and was thanking the Ancestors for her armour covering any evidence) until Gorim had pointed out she hadn't eaten yet and perhaps they should stop somewhere. A perfectly reasonable suggestion from a diligent Second.

A booth at the back, cut into the stone is nice and private, it meant nobody can assassinate her from the doorway with a long range weapon, they'd have to come right up to the table and within range of Gorim's blade.

It's this dubious safety that she's now cursing. It also means there is nobody around to see her Second's wandering fingers as he unlaces her breeches.

Gorim's sitting sedately, both hands wrapped around his mug of tea when the server arrives for their food order, their approaching footsteps giving him plenty of time to move.

"What can I do for you, My Lady, Ser?"

She takes a small settling breath. Just having the server here to take their order is nerve wracking, despite knowing the table and the front of her armour are both hiding the fact that her breeches are open.

"I'll have the spicy nug stew please."

Gorim nods politely, "make that two, please."

The server bobs a quick bow to them both before bustling off.

Why did she agree this morning to play by his rules while they were out? In hindsight it was a terrible plan. But he had made it seem like a perfectly reasonable offer.

"You've been walking around the market thinking about how wet you are, haven't you?" His voice is soft. "Have you thought about going back to your room early, give yourself some relief? Or are you trying to prove you have more willpower than that?"

"I'm not giving you the satisfaction of winning," she hisses back.

He pulls away and for a moment she thinks he's angry. Then there's a bowl of stew settling in front of her and the server bobs another bow before leaving again.

"I've already won." His smirk is wide as he starts to eat. 

She swallows. She's had it beaten into her that a Lady does not scarf their food down like a lower class commoner, she will eat slowly and with decorum as befits her station. No matter what may be happening.

Gorim has no such training and he finishes far sooner, which means he's free to concentrate on her. His hand returns to her thigh before working its way higher, under her armour and she draws in a whistling breath as he pushes the rope aside. "Move forward." 

She shuffles forwards, spreads her legs, and very carefully swallows her stew rather than inhaling it as he smoothly pulls the stone cock out. 

Gorim smirks. She needs to relax; at this rate she's going to spill something if she's not careful. She grits her teeth, lips pressed together as the stone cock slides back in as easily as it slid out.. The server will be back soon for their bowls. She needs to stay calm.

Harder to do than she hopes.

Especially as he lets his fingers brush over her clit and she jerks. She takes a deep breath, has another spoonful of stew and glares right back. He chuckles, and the fingers that have been teasing her press harder, and she chokes out a whimper before slapping a hand over her mouth. Fuck.

"Gorim!" she hisses, pushing the nearly finished bowl away from herself. "You can't do this. Not here."

"Can't do what? Show you exactly how eager you are for my touch? I think you'll find I can."

"Not here," she growls out, clamping her teeth down before any other noises escape her.

He tilts his head, fingers tugging the rope back into place before leaving her, "very well. Not _here_." There's a warning there that makes her hesitate, but what's he going to do? Punish her when they get back? She can take that, will probably even like it unless he leaves her strung up again. Then again, even that was worth it eventually. In the end she fastens her breeches and tugs her armour back into place and stands to leave.

He goes to pay before rejoining her, a pace behind as normal and she can pretend that she's not thinking about how quickly she can get back to the Diamond Quarter and convince him to fuck her.

She cuts through the alleyways, her mind already mapping out the route back when he pulls her off balance as they pass through a darkened section, shoving her against a building so fast she barely has time to turn her head aside. His hand winds into her hair and pulls until she's scrabbling against the wall to balance, trying to stand on her toes so his grip hurts a little less.

"Gorim!" she bites out, panic clearly lacing her voice as he tugs at her breeches, dragging them down her legs. Anyone could wander down here. She twists in his grasp, yelping as he just grips her hair tighter. "Gorim, _please!_ Not here."

Somebody is going to find them, She just knows they are.

He laughs, the soft sound close to her as he crowds her, pressing her against the stone wall. "You said no to the last place, so here seems perfectly reasonable." His voice turns dark and sharp, "undo you belt."

She can't. "Gorim." She tries again, he needs to be reasonable.

"Trust me, Princess, anyone does look down here, they ain’t gonna recognise you. Now undo your fucking belt. I will not ask you again."

Her hands are shaking as she undoes the buckle, letting the armour that covers her thighs and groin fall to the floor.

He tugs at the ropes and she squirms against the wall. She's sure her heartbeat must be loud enough for him to hear, her breathing and bitten back moans enough to draw everyone over to have a look, but they remain alone.

"What are you more worried about?" he murmurs as he shifts the ropes, slowly pulling the cock out of her. "People recognising their precious Princess in an alleyway with her breeches around her ankles, or people not knowing who you are but seeing your pretty little cunt, spread wide around a cock?"

Her breath catches. "Both." She's not some casteless whore to flash her tits all over the Commons.

She knows he's smirking even if she can't see his face. "Hold this." She fastens her hand around the item he is pressing against her hand before she realises what it is. "Be a good slut and clean it off." The stone phallus is warm and slick with her arousal and she darts her tongue out, slowly licking from one end to another as he watches.

"I'd keep hold of it if I was you. I intend to put it right back where it came from. I'm sure you wouldn't want it to get on the floor." Her hand tightens at the thought. No, she really wouldn't.

He spins her around, lifting her up with ease and slamming her against the stone. She coughs at the impact, dropping her head to his shoulder, hiding behind his hair and her own braids. He lets her, pushing his armour aside and opening his own breeches.

He wastes no time in lowering her down the wall and guiding his cock inside her. She clings to his shoulders, not trusting his strength even if she can't tell the difference between his hands and the stone - both as immovable as the other right now.

She's glad for her remaining armour when he moves, each thrust pressing her back into the wall so hard she can hear the metal scraping across it. There's none of the softness she remembers from her last free day in the evening. Instead every thrust is brutal, and she can't stop the cries escaping her to echo in the alleyway.

He cums buried inside her with a growl and he holds her there for a long moment as he catches his breath.

She stumbles when her feet hit the ground, he steadies her, unwrapping her fingers from the deathgrip she's maintained around the toy. He does exactly as he said he would, pressing it back inside her and shifting the ropes back into place so it'll stay. "Better get dressed unless you want to walk home like that."

Her lips part in disbelief and she drops a hand to her clit, stroking herself. He is not going to leave her in this state.

One eyebrow raises. "I believe I gave you a first warning. You cum when I let you. Consider this your second warning."

Sereda drops her eyes, teeth worrying at her lip as she debates her choices. Walk home like this, or find relief and take the punishment.

The thought of what he might consider as punishment is more than enough to spur her on until she cums and she leans back against the wall with a pleased smile before sorting her breeches out and then fumbling her armour back on. 

Only when she's done does she look up, a defiant tilt to her head. He shakes his head at her, "you'll regret that."

She keeps her head up, walking as gently as she can as he falls in behind her. She won't. Because she's finally realised something.

She _likes_ it when he's angry.


	7. Day 10 part 2

He's going to give her credit for sheer guts. Intelligence, maybe not so much. That wasn't just a refusal because she didn't want to do something like the previous times he's punished her. That was very deliberately walking up to the line he's drawn, trampling all over it and then asking what he plans to do.

She's a sodding spoilt brat and now he has to respond. If he doesn't, it'll set a bad precedent. He has to keep the rules the same. Seems he'll need to work harder to find something she actually doesn't like since she does like pain.

Of course, he could just push that to the limits, but he doesn't want to break her. Not yet. In a few months maybe he could see just how many lashes she could take with his full weight behind them. Now he still hesitates, building it up slowly so she is less likely to notice that she's slipping further into his grasp.

But the question remains - how to deal with her tonight?

He has an inkling of an idea. Patience seems to be her main failing. If pain won't correct her, perhaps lacking what she wants will.

He strips her armour off in silence, quick and efficient, and she doesn't offer to help as she has started doing on the last few days. At least she's picked up on his mood. And she removes the rest of her clothing before he asks - too little too late if she's going for self preservation. He pulls the collar out, putting it back on without a word - she makes no protest.

He leaves her kneeling on the rug as he fetches various things. There's always crafting supplies on hand in her room - he's expected to be able to do simple repairs to her gear. Perhaps this isn't the intended purpose for them, but the leather will be perfect for what he wants.

"Go. Remove that cock, wash it, and bring it back. And do anything else in there you need to," he says absently as he spreads things out, deciding on a design.

He has the first strips cut when she returns, holding the clean toy out to him. He raises an eyebrow, "I know there are things I haven't taught you, but do try to use some common sense and think."

She flushes, obviously thinking before she kneels and offers him the stone again, a hopeful look plastered on her face. "Better." He accepts it, tossing it into the chest before gesturing at her to stand so he can wrap bits of leather around her to check he's got his sizing guesses correct.

She watches as he adds several buckles and loops to various parts. She'll work out what he's making eventually. It's not going to take him long - he's had plenty of practice.

"Did you make my collar?"

He nods. "And the cuffs. They're all simple things to do once you know how." She goes back to silently watching until he sets the finished piece aside.

He stands before she can say a word, starting to unwrap the rope. It leaves pretty imprints behind, her skin showing every mark.

She's going to have a lot more marks before the night is through and she'll thank him for every single one.

She doesn't protest as he buckles the new harness he's made into place. He can almost see her thinking, it means he sees the realisation setting in as he finds the locks he uses on chains in his chest and curls a finger at her, all the more amusing.

Her step closer is reluctant, a full body flinch the response as he clicks the locks closed. "Gorim," she says, running a hand over the leather now sitting over her crotch.

"Yes?"

"How long? I mean, how will I, uh…"

He hums, watching her reaction, "as long as I think it takes for the lesson to sink in. I'll remove it for you to bathe and see to other such things."

Her eyes widen, lips parting in shock and he drinks it in. And best of all the way she finally ducks her head, submitting to his will.

"Now that's sorted, I think you're ready for your punishment."

"But this?" she says, hand patting the belt.

"Is training. Since you're incapable of restraining yourself, I'll do it for you." He opens the chest and motions her forwards. "Find something you think appropriate for disobeying a direct order.

She glances between him and the chest, clearly sensing that he's setting something up. "I." Her fingers dance over several items before she pulls away. "I'm not sure what would be appropriate."

"Clever girl," he laughs. "You accept whatever I deem appropriate and you'll thank me for it. Won't you?"

"Yes, Gorim."

He brings out his choices, watching as she swallows - nervous or excited? Or possibly a little bit of both. It's hard to tell and frankly, he's finding with her they seem to be the same thing.

Binding her arms behind her back he grins. "Go fetch one of the stamina potions." He settles into his chair as she goes to the side table. They may taste disgusting but he'll appreciate the boost.

She kneels in front of him, teeth clamped around the stem having found no other way to collect it. He gives her a fond pat on the head before taking it and downing it without comment.

He beckons her closer until she's settled between his legs and he can reach her breasts to squeeze them, roughly fondling the soft flesh until her nipples harden. He doesn't blame her for bracing herself as he attaches the first clamp. Her breath leaving her in a low-voiced cry. She whimpers as he moves to the second.

Attaching the leash to the chain between the clamps rather than her collar and giving it a very gentle tug makes him wish her body is able to take some of the heavier duty toys he owns. He hasn't bothered to bring them to her room yet. Just these make her eyes widen as she kneels before him, a soft sound that might be a sob escaping her.

"Here's how tonight's going to go. I'm going to give you the lashes you deserve and you will thank me for every single one - I'll consider taking these off." A pull at the chain drives the point home as she hisses through her teeth. "Then you get me off - I'll continue to consider taking these off."

"Yes, Gorim." She keeps her eyes lowered, body settled naturally in the position he spent so long drilling her on.

He sits back, contemplating how and where to apply the correction and how to secure her. He really needs to get ahold of one of the specially-made benches. Given Sereda would be able to afford one, that's no longer a limitation. The more he thinks about that, the better it sounds. For now though, he'll use the end of her bed; the pole the curtains run on will do for his needs.

"Come on." There's no protest as she follows him, just a solidly indrawn breath as he feels the leash go taut before she is able to scramble to her feet. He throws the leash over the curtain rail, pulling it tight. If she doesn't want to feel that pull she'll need to balance. And he intends to make that difficult for her.

She's already found that she has to balance on her toes and use the end of the bed for balance to ease the pressure. He runs the smooth wood across his palm before tapping it against her back. She tenses, waiting with eyes screwed shut for what's coming.

She makes a strangled yelping sound, clearly not able to keep herself from making noise.

He laughs, tracing the welt on her thigh. She lost her balance, just as he hoped she would and he reaches around her body, roughly squeezing one of her tits. "What do you say, Princess?"

He thinks for a moment she's going to refuse before sense clearly kicks in and she spits out a grudging. "Thank you."

"You're not sounding very thankful."

He steps back, putting the next strike across her ass. She twists away from it.

"Thank you for being so kind," she says - it's the same sort of tone she uses when Trian's being a stuck up bastard with her.

"Less of the sarcasm, whore." He doesn't hold back the next strike and she screams, the sound echoing around her room as she pants, the chain jangling as she tries to stay up.

"Fuck. Sod. Oww. Fuck," she gasps out.

He chuckles. "I'm still waiting for the gratitude."

She whines as he reaches up to tug the chain. "Don't, please! I mean, thank you." 

"Better." He steps back, "only seven more to go."

He's almost sad she manages to keep her tone respectful until he's done. He traces the welts, watching the way she twitches away from his fingers. And the way her hips rock, an unconscious movement for something she's not going to find anytime soon. Maybe now she'll realise that giving him what he wants is the best way to get what she wants. 

He unclips the chain, and she stumbles around the corner of the bed as he sits on one side. He pulls his cock free of his clothing and tugs at the chain to get her attention. She whimpers, he just smirks, he can only imagine how painful they might be now, and yet she's not begging him to remove them as she slides to her knees in front of him.

She hesitantly leans forwards, gaining more confidence when he does nothing but sit back, one hand lightly settling on her head, the other keeping the chain taut so she can't back off. She learns quickly as he doesn't hold back his appreciative noises, guiding her without words to what she should be doing. Barring the time he fucked her mouth, this might be the first time she's done this.

It certainly won't be the last.

In the end he takes pity on her, hand tightening on her braids as he fucks onto her mouth until he cums. More training and she might just be able to do that on her own. He'll look forward to that.

He smiles, pushing himself to his feet and pulling the covers back. "Up you get."

She awkwardly climbs up, settling down onto her side and staring back at him. He runs a finger over her swollen lips and across her tear stained cheek. He wraps the leash around the post and pats her head. "Stay."

He goes to use the facilities, washing himself quickly before going to mess up the pallet he had moved into her main room; so it will look like he's slept there to the servants. As long as he only uses it (or not as the case is) occasionally, it won't be remarked upon. If he starts staying every night there might be rumours he'd rather not have starting.

She hasn't moved when he returns to climb into bed, watching him expectantly. Her lips part and her breathing hitches as he wraps an arm around her to play with one of the clamps. He kisses her neck, nipping at her skin until she moans. 

"You've been wet for a while haven't you?" He drags a finger along a welt on her thigh, "You enjoy being used. You're just a secret little slut pretending to be a Princess."

"Yes," she says, and he can feel the way her hips jump as he lays a hand on the leather over her crotch. "Please. Gorim."

He hums, letting his hand drift back to a breast, unclipping the clamp in a quick motion. She whines, ass pressing back into him, a soft litany of curses and begging reaching his ears as he grabs her shoulder, rolling her onto her back so he can fasten his mouth on the abused flesh. She certainly isn't expecting the release of the second one as she presses into his mouth with a sharp cry.

He pulls away, looking down at her. That'll do just nicely. It's a moment to undo the leash from the clamps, carelessly dropping them over the side of the bed, before separating the cuffs at her wrists. She stretches them out with a sigh of relief, he lets her think he might be leaving her unbound before dragging them up to her head and clipping them together and then to the leash. Unless she crawls up to the top of the bed she's not touching herself in any way. And he certainly sleeps lightly enough to notice that.

"Goodnight, Princess," he says, rolling over and snuggling down into the furs.

He ignores the way she squirms behind him, the chain jangling as she gives it a solid tug, and the frustrated growl that follows. "Gorim! Come on, you can't expect me to sleep like this!"

"If you don't shut up, I'll just gag you," he says mildly.

She makes a huffing sound, the bed still shifting as she tries to get comfortable. He smiles to himself. She's going to spend a very uncomfortable week with how easy she is to rile up - he's going to enjoy it immensely.


	8. Day 15

"Sereda Aeducan"

She freezes. Heart plummeting so far down it may as well have left her and be making a new home in the depths of the mining tunnels.

It takes effort to slowly lift her eyes. She stands, key falling from shaking fingers, the open locks, undeniable evidence of her wrongdoing are on the table beside the open leather that should be secured on her.

"I -" Her throat closes up. He wasn't meant to be back until later. 

He doesn't say a word as he reaches her and she doesn't even see his hand coming towards her as he doesn't break stride, the blow rocking her back with a startled cry. Her hand rises of its own accord to touch her cheek as it throbs, the other rising to pry at his hand that's like a vice around her throat.

"Gorim?" her voice wavers as his hand tightens, forcing her to her knees as his other hand grabs her braids and yanks. There's nothing in his eyes but ice cold fury as she stares up at him. "Let me go." She can barely get the words out, they're just a whisper of sound.

One side of his mouth curls up in a smirk, and there's nothing of the jovial friendly Second she wants to see. Just a cruel indifference as he stares down at her. If she wasn't afraid before, she is now. She won't admit that she doesn't really want him to let her go.

"And to think, I trusted you." His voice is as cold as his eyes.

She draws in a deep breath when he releases her throat, coughing as her airflow returns. He doesn't let go of her hair and she turns her head, trying to ease the pressure.

"Seems I didn't impress upon you exactly who is in charge in here."

"Gorim, you can't - owww, fuck!" She scrambles to her feet, following him the few steps to the chest. "Let me go!" she demands, both hands prying at his fingers in her hair. It's like trying to break granite with nothing but her bare hands. 

"I can, and I will, and you'll shut up and do whatever the fuck I want you to," he says as he digs out the cuffs. "Put them on."

She swallows. If she doesn't, she senses he will and he won't be gentle about it. Her fingers shake as she buckles them into place, using her teeth to hold one strap in place when she needs to and trying not to fall over as she gets ones around each ankle. It's not the most elegant thing she's ever done and there's something about putting them on herself. She flushes, each one closing slowly proving that he's right about her.

Her collar is next and she's sure he can see her hands shaking as she closes it, working out which setting it's usually on by feel.

He deftly attaches a chain one handed, linking it to each cuff with a lock before connecting it to her collar. Only then does he let go of her hair. She doesn't have any time to be thankful for that as he simply grabs her collar and tugs.

She follows after him, the chain not long enough to do anything but an undignified shuffle unless she wants to hit the floor face first. With her arms behind her back she wouldn't be able to save herself.

The stone edge at the bottom of the bed digs into her stomach as he forces her to bend over the bed. He kicks her legs apart until she can feel the cuffs digging in, chain stretched taut. He steps closer, thigh between her legs so she can't close them again. The fear isn't abating, if anything it's rising as she wonders what he might be thinking. And of course her core is throbbing as she waits.

She can hear the rustle of clothing and then there's fingers rubbing against her. He chuckles. "Your cunt'd get wet for anything wouldn't it?"

If she was even going to answer that she couldn't as he presses inside her, a low wail echoing off the walls of her room. Pain drives through her, she's not ready for the stretch of his cock, and yet there's a warm burst of pleasure and her hips press back to meet him. He doesn't wait for her to adjust, fucking into her so hard she'll probably be feeling it for days. His fingers on her hips are like vices, she'll probably have bruises there for days too.

"You're mine, slut. Mine to fuck. Mine to command." His voice is no warmer than it was before, his anger not abating, and fingers hook into her collar, dragging her up. "Say it."

She whimpers, closing her eyes as he stills, buried inside her.

He growls, and she freezes at the sound of steel being drawn. She has a moment to mourn the delicately dyed silk shirt before her breast band gets the same treatment. They're carelessly thrown to the floor with the knife and one warm hand closes around a breast, squeezing tight enough all she can do is gasp. "Say it, Princess."

"I'm yours," she says, her voice wavering.

"And."

"I'm your slut. I'm yours to fuck and - and - to command."

He laughs as he moves again. "I could have you on your knees in front of your father's throne and you wouldn't protest would you?"

She shakes her head, denial that he would dare or that she wouldn't protest, lost as she imagines doing just that. Him sprawled there, a smirk on his face as his hand tugs at her leash. She would. Stone forbid, but she would sink to her knees and let him fuck her mouth. Then she can just imagine him pulling her into his lap and having her sink onto him, one hand tight on the leash, the other twisting her nipples until she screams as he fucks her until all she can do is cling to the throne.

"Or how about we make a trip to Dust Town, paint a brand on your face, you wouldn't be any different to the rest of the whores down there that spread their legs for the first cock willing to pay them a few coppers." 

"I'm not -"

"A Princess? No, you're just a willing hole for my cock." He pinches a nipple, twisting until she sobs. "I've been gentle with you," another twist and she grits her teeth, "I'm realising you don't want me to be gentle do you? You want me to fuck you so hard all you can do is writhe underneath me and beg for mercy."

She nods, another sob escaping through clenched teeth as he abuses her other breast.

His laughter fills the room as he leans in, teeth sinking into her shoulder as he cums. She whines when he pulls out and slaps her ass.

"Look at you. So fucking debauched and still you'll beg for more won't you?"

She turns her head, wincing at the anger still on his face. She was hoping it might have faded a little by now. "Yes. I. Whatever you want. Gorim, please."

He smiles. It's not reassuring.

"Get on the bed. Ass in the air."

She shuffles around to one side, cursing softly as she's forced to sit down and roll onto the bed. He's back quickly enough and she turns her head from where it's pressing into the furs, proud of herself and hoping he's pleased, only to make a startled noise as she sees what he went to fetch.

The bed dips behind her and she clenches her hands into fists. She also presses back towards the hand that settles on her ass.

He's right. She'd do anything for him. Anything.

He holds the cold stone against her, letting her slick it up as her hips shift, trying to find release that he's not giving her.

When he starts to ease it inside her she whimpers, feeling tears gathering at the burn that accompanies it.

"You want to cum? Fuck yourself."

"I can't!" There's no way she can do that, it's too big, too much, and fuck, all she can do is stay still and try not to move.

She jolts as his hand lands on her ass, a wail escaping her as it forces her to shift around the toy. "You can and you will," he says, hand landing on her other cheek with enough force she cries out.

She eases herself back, then forwards. Trying to get used to it. It does get easier. Slowly. He seems amused by her sobbing, his free hand reaching over to wipe away her tears.

"That's it. Such a good slut," he says, "taking everything I give you."

She can't answer as he shoves it the rest of the way in, burying it until she is unable to tell if she is trying to get away or get closer. He draws it out slowly until she whimpers at the loss, feeling her cunt clenching on nothing before he starts to fuck her with it. She can't hope to keep up with his pace - she can't do anything except writhe underneath him. Exactly as he promised.

"Gorim, please. Fuck. Please. I'm sorry. Fuck." The cries fall from her lips in a scattered mess, she's only half aware of what she's saying.

When he finally flicks his fingers over her clit, roughly pinching, it's all she needs. Her release leaving her shivering.

He presses the stone in again, heat pooling in her stomach as she clenches around it.

"Don't move."

She couldn't if she wanted to and he's back well before she's got herself under control.

Leather wraps around her, and she whimpers as he presses the cock inside her before securing it.

"Up."

She struggles off the bed, following the fingers that hook into her hair and pull. He tosses a pillow onto the rug at the foot of her bed, "Kneel." She slides to her knees almost before he's finished speaking. A low moan escaping her as the cock shifts.

A hand runs through her hair, soothing where before it had abused. He kneels down, one hand dragging her chin up until she meets his eyes and he leans in to kiss her before she registers the click of a lock closing.

"Sleep well, Princess."

And then he's gone. Feet padding to the side of her bed as her lips part in shock. He's going to make her sleep at the foot of the bed? Like this? She tugs at the chains, and then the leash where it's wound around the bottom of the bedpost.

She shuffles back, the chains chiming as she curls up.

She should tell him to let her go.

She's not going to. She can't. She loves him. Loves how he makes her feel. Loves how utterly right this feels.


End file.
